11 Hes Back (1/2)

The music started to pound through the speakers, making my muscles shake in surprise. Taking in a deep breath, I slipped my feet into my heels and got ready to do what I had been trained to do.

Make money, take money, and not think about how I was getting it.

Adjusting my skirt, I took my place behind the curtain, waiting for my turn.

The lights dimmed, the music slowly fading away as the DJ changed the record. Thick bass created a wave of prickles across my skin as my song came on, signaling I was up.

Taking in a deep breath, I closed my eyes, gently shaking my hands at my sides and forcing myself to forget all about who I was and what I was about to do.

You're not this person, it's just an act. You're better than this, you know you are.

Tickling my fingers across the velvet curtain, I spread both sheets wide, batting my lashes as all the men began to hoot. The tip of my toe pressed out, leading my long leg into view. I felt the curtain as it slipped across my skin, sealing my entrance to the stage.

Letting the music consume me, I rocked my body, moving to the beat and working my way over to the pole. The room was filled with men, all of them peering up at me, drool almost pouring out of their mouths.

I ignored them, same as always, imagining that I was on Broadway, taking part in a musical. The men were an audience of hundreds, the song my shining moment for the world to embrace me.

Looking out past the dogs at the base of the stage, I kept my eyes on the background, doing my best to stay focused on my daydream. Bills were flying past my feet, sliding across the glossy wood floor. The yelling was getting louder and louder, drowning out the voices inside my head.

Closing my eyes, my hand gripped the pole, holding on tight as I swung around. Curling my leg, I dropped my head back, letting my braid sweep across the floor.

Opening my eyes, everything changed. My heart jumped into my throat, sweat began to bead up on the back of my neck, my palms became clammy, causing me to slip on the pole.

Snapping my back straight, I whipped my head over my shoulder and glared at the last seat at the end of the stage.

He's back. He's here again.

The man that had gotten me into trouble was sitting right at the front of the stage, his hands folded against his chest as his eyes bore a hole right through me.

I could feel his glare, the way it shifted around my body as I stood like a statue, completely thrown off by his presence.